


The Burden to Our Ways

by Alcoholic_Kangaroo



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Incest, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_Kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_Kangaroo
Summary: I can't believe I forgot to actually put a summary on this.Uh...Huey goes into his first heat. His brothers try to help.
Relationships: Dewey Duck/Huey Duck, Louie Duck/Huey Duck
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	The Burden to Our Ways

Dewey is the unfortunate triplet that initially discovers the problem.

The lightest sleeper of the three boys, he awakens to the sound of muffled sniffling coming from directly above his head. It’s not a loud noise; it is quieter than the snoring from the bunk beneath him. It is also not entirely foreign. There have been various times throughout their young lives where one, if not all, of them have lain in their beds, crying softly to themselves for one reason or another. Still, it is not within Dewey’s nature to ignore the smallest sign of distress a family member, especially one of his brothers. Huey and Louie are like extra limbs. When they are not there, he can feel their absence.

He can also feel their pain. It’s like a hand squeezing around his own heart. Sitting up in his own bunk, he tilts his head up so that his voice can reach the ears above, hopefully without disturbing the youngest of the triplets on the bottom bunk.

“Huey,” he calls very softly, “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Hurts.” A single word response. So unlike his big brother who is usually verbose to a fault. He likes big words and long sentences and excruciatingly detailed explanations. A one-word response to any question is almost unheard of.

Dewey slides to the bottom of the bed, reaching out for the ladder. He swings his body around onto it and is climbing as quickly as he can. He’s still half asleep, his body overheated from the blanket, and his grip is weak, but it only takes seconds until he’s joining his big brother in his bed. Huey is turned so he is facing the wall, curled up tightly around himself. His arms seem to be cradling his stomach and when Dewey touches his shoulder, he can feel his trembling beneath his touch.

“What hurts?” Dewey asks, curling his fingers around one of the sharp blades poking through Huey’s pajama top. His mind is already jumping to worse and worse possibilities. “Is it a muscle pain or your stomach? Kidney stone? Do you think your appendix burst?”

Huey just shakes his head. He’s breathing heavily but steadily. In, out, in, out. The way he breathes when he’s having a panic attack or when he feels nauseous. But if he were nauseous, he wouldn’t have described it as hurting, Huey is too precise to be so vague with medical symptoms. Is he panicking? Or is he just trying to breathe through some intense, bone-crushing pain? He rubs Huey’s back soothingly, hoping his touch doesn’t just exacerbate the problem.

“Do you want me to get an adult?” Dewey asks, worry turning in his stomach. “Mom? Beakley?”

“Uncle Donald,” Huey pleads, voice wet and desperate.

The answer draws a frown. He cannot fetch Uncle Donald for his brother. Uncle Donald is out of town with Daisy on some romantic vacation that the two had been planning for months. Huey knows this. Everybody in the manor knows this. How bad must the pain be for somebody with a memory like his brother’s to forget that?

“Uncle Donald is on vacation,” Dewey says, as gently as he can. “I’m sure he’d come if he could but he’s out of the country. How about Mom?”

Huey just shakes his head. There is sweat on his brow and it glistens in the glow of his Gizmoduck nightlight plugged into the wall over them. Dewey dabs at the sweat with the corner of his blanket, hoping to make his brother more comfortable, but he just groans, his body tightening around itself in a way that Dewey knows to mean that the pain has worsened.

“What’s going on?” Louie’s voice, sleepy and thick comes from far below them. He sounds annoyed at having been disturbed. “Why are you guys awake at four in the morning?”

“Huey’s not feeling good,” Dewey calls down to him. “

“What’s wrong with him?” Louie asks, sounding awake suddenly.

“I don’t know, I think it’s his stomach,” Dewey says. “I’m really worried about him, I think it might be something serious.”

“I’m coming up,” Louie calls back. The bedframe squeaks and sways beneath them. Instead of swinging around to the ladder as Dewey had, Louie has climbed out of bed entirely. Dewey waits for him to appear at the end of the bunk. When his head pops up, Dewey is greeted by a bad case of bedhead, the hair gel the youngest usually uses absent after his evening shower. It’s frizzy and standing up all over the place.

“He’s not saying much,” Dewey tells their youngest brother. He’s petting Huey’s hair soothingly but isn’t sure if it’s doing anything to comfort him. “I think he’s in too much pain to talk.”

“Hey, Huey, you okay?” Louie coos. A bit chubbier than Dewey, it takes a little exertion for him to pull himself onto the edge of the bed. He scoots behind their big brother on his hands and knees, planning to sit by Huey’s feet by the look of it, one of the few places on the bed where there is enough free room. Except he stops in place, making a disgusted sounding noise. “Ew, why is it wet up here? Did you pee the bed?”

“What?” Dewey asks, startled. He hasn’t felt anything wet besides the sweat on Huey’s face and soaking his hair. “What are you talking about? Huey’s too old to wet the bed.”

“Maybe he spilled a glass of water or something then,” Louie replies. He’s making a high-pitched, disgusted sounding whine as he wipes his hand on the mattress. “It doesn’t smell like pee but there’s definitely something over here.”

Could Huey have sweated that much? Enough to dampen the sheets?

“Do you have your phone?” Dewey asks, climbing up onto his knees.

“Of course, I have my phone.”

Even in the darkness of the room, Dewey can hear Louie’s eyes rolling in his head.

“Use your light,” he instructs. “On the bed.”

For once in his life, Louie is not stretching the truth. There is a wet spot on the sheets, but the sheets still look white and there isn’t much of whatever the liquid is, much less than somebody would normally pee anyway. Too much to be sweat, though.

Louie was also correct about the smell, Dewey learns when he crawls down to the end of the bed to get a closer look. It has no whiff of the acrid scent of ammonia. In fact, it smells sort of sweet, some sort of floral scent he can’t exactly place. It makes him think of the beach on a hot summer day for some reason.

Sweating, pain, wetness.

Starting to suspect the worse, Dewey grabs Louie’s wrist and tilts the light of the phone towards Huey’s exposed bottom. With his knees drawn up to his chest, there is nothing obstructing their view. The fluffy white feathers there are glistening and directly beneath him is another puddle of wetness. He’s half lying in it. The liquid hasn’t been fully absorbed by the sheets and some of it is layered on top of the cloth as if it were too thick to be soaked up by the bedding. Too viscous to be water.

Dewey’s never seen the stuff in real life but he knows what it is.

“He’s in heat,” Dewey says quietly.

“I…yeah, I guess that’s right,” Louie admits after a moment, taking in the sight of Huey’s dripping feathers. He moves the light away, shining it directly on Dewey’s face so that the middle brother is squinting at him. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know, what do you think we should do?” Dewey asks, shielding his eyes against the phone’s glare. He waves at him to move the light away. “You’re supposed to be the one who’s good at coming up with plans.”

“You’re the alpha,” Louie shoots back. He turns off his phone’s light, they don’t need to see anything else. “I’m just a beta, this isn’t my area of expertise.”

Huey groans again from above them. When Dewey touches his leg to comfort him the skin feels very hot under his fingertips. Huey attempts to squirm away from the touch as if Dewey were the one on fire but there isn’t anywhere for him to go, curled up into the corner as he is.

“Do you think he has a fever?” Dewey asks the youngest brother, voice concerned. “He’s really hot.”

“It’s a heat,” Louie replies. “Isn’t that why it’s called a heat? You get hot?”

“I don’t know,” Dewey responds. He reaches up to touch Huey’s hip. He seems less bothered by the touch when his feathers are there to block some of the directness. “They didn’t say anything about that in sex ed. I guess that’s why he asked for Uncle Donald? He’d know how to help. Do we know any other omegas?”

“I think Fenton is one,” Louie offers up lamely. As if they were going to drive over to his house to drag their uncle’s employee out of bed before dawn to explain to their brother how to deal with a heat. Dewey feels like punching him. “What? Stop looking at me like that, I was just answering your question.”

“It’s too dark in here for you to even see how I’m looking at you,” Dewey responds.

“No, it isn’t,” Louie objects. “Your eyes just haven’t adjusted yet. And we don’t need an omega, we need an alpha.”

“I am an alpha,” Dewey reminds him, as if they hadn’t just been discussing this fact. As if they aren’t all extremely aware of Dewey’s status. He’s been bragging about it as long as he’s known.

“But you haven’t presented yet,” Louie rolls his eyes, far from impressed. “We need a mature alpha. Isn’t Launchpad one?”

“He’s a beta,” Dewey responds quickly. The idea of Launchpad being an alpha is laughable. Imagine Launchpad having a dominant bone in his body. Louie must have been fooled by his size; everybody always is. But it wouldn’t matter anyway, Dewey wouldn’t allow an alpha, not even Launchpad, near his brother right now. He’s his brother and his responsibility. “And it doesn’t matter, Huey is twelve. He’s not ready for that.”

“Well, he has to be,” Louie argues, gesturing towards the eldest triplet. Dewey’s sight is finally starting to adjust and he can at least see Huey’s form on the bed once more, if only as a vaguely defined lump. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have lube dripping out of his ass, would he?”

“That doesn’t mean he’s ready to lose his virginity,” Dewey insists. “He just needs suppressant pills or something.”

“You know what they say,” Louie jokes lightly. “Old enough to gush, old enough to crush.”

“Literally nobody says that,” Dewey snorts. “In fact, I think you just made that up on the spot, didn’t you? No, let’s just go tell Mom what’s happening, and she’ll take him to the doctor for suppressant pills.”

“Suppressant pills only work before the heat; they won’t do anything to help him since he’s already started. Kind of irresponsible of Mom and Uncle Donald, if you ask me, you’d think one of them would have already put him on them by now. Most omegas present sometime before their twelfth birthday.” Louie says very matter-of-factly. Dewey stares at his heavily shadowed face, startled by the knowledgeable way his usually carefree brother stated this data. “What? Unlike you, I did pay attention in sex ed class.”

“Well then,” Dewey blinks, taking in this new information. “I guess Uncle Donald assumed that was Mom’s job and Mom probably assumed Uncle Donald had already taken care of it.”

“Please,” Huey interrupts their conversation. The words come out uneven, pinched sounding. He’s crying now. Not just sniffling but weeping as he begs. “Guys, help me. It hurts so much.”

“We need to get an adult,” Louie says, patting Huey’s foot. Dewey is unsure if he’s talking to Huey or himself or both of them. “He needs an alpha or he’ll get even worse. He could get really sick.”

“I’m an alpha,” Dewey insists harshly. Louie’s head snaps to look at him now, surprise clear on his face by the sudden anger in his usually light-hearted brother’s voice. Dewey is just as surprised. He doesn’t know why he feels this way but he knows he doesn’t want anybody else, not even their mother, taking care of Huey right now. Huey only needs his brothers. “He’s our brother, it’s our responsibility to take care of him.”

“I, I guess it is,” Louie agrees, reluctantly. “What do we do?”

“He just needs to be knotted,” Dewey says, confidently. “That should stop the heat, right?”

“Just needs to be knotted. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the ability to do that.”

“Neither do I,” Dewey admits, reluctantly. Not that he needs to. He’s sure Louie already is aware of that fact. Alphas never reach full breeding age until about sixteen; that’s when they gain the ability to knot. Omegas develop at an earlier age so they’ve always known since they were first tested at the age of nine that Huey would be the first to present. Not that Louie will ever really “present” in any noticeable way.

“Then how are you going to help him?” Louie asks. “If you can’t knot him, then what are you going to do?”

“As long as there’s an alpha around, how can he tell the difference between a real knot and anything else big enough?” Dewey reasons. “It just needs to trigger his inner glands, right?”

Louie just shrugs. “How should I know?”

“Okay,” Dewey says. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He reaches up to brush his hair back out of his face. “Can you go get my brush from off the dresser?”

“Why me?” Louie whines, lazily. “Why can’t you get it?”

“Do you want to comfort Huey instead?”

“…fine.”

As much as Dewey loves both his brothers, Louie definitely has his share of weaknesses. The ability to comfort others is just one of those weaknesses.

Waiting until Louie had started back down the ladder, Dewey takes advantage of the free space at the bottom of the bed. He manages to squirm his way into the gap between Huey and the wall, lying on his side so he’s facing him. Huey is still curled up, his face mostly hidden in his knees. Dewey touches his arm and the top of his exposed head. His hat, discarded, is missing.

“Huey, I’m going to hold you, if that’s alright?” Dewey coaxes, lightly moving his hands so his brother knows where he is. “I know my own scent is still pretty weak, but it might help. Can you loosen up so I can put my arms around you?”

“Yeah,” Huey gets out. He uncurls long enough for Dewey to pull him close to him. Huey’s arms are like vices as they grip onto his younger brother. He buries his fingers into Dewey’s back, his legs going around him as if he were a body pillow. There’s something hard poking at Dewey’s stomach and he knows what it is, but he pays it no attention.

“There we go,” Dewey coos, his own arms grabbing him close but with only a fraction of the tightness. “I’ve got you. Me and Louie are going to take care of you. You trust us to take care of you, right?”

“Yes.”

Huey is soft against him. He’s thinner than Dewey, he’s always been the thinnest of the three of them, but he’s burning up with heat and his feathers are dense and velvety. Dewey has to rummage through the thickness of them to find what he’s looking for. The area is sopping, the feathers slick around his opening. He probes at his entrance with the tip of his thumb; a small whine comes from his brother.

“Okay,” Louie huffs, climbing back onto the bed. “I got your brush, what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Just hold onto it for now,” Dewey says, surprised by the calmness of his own tone. Louie watches as he slips his thumb inside their brother. Reflexively, Huey tightens around him, pulling him in deeper. Dewey feels the change in his breathing, both in the way his ribs move beneath his arms and the hotness of the air against his chest.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” Louie asks, skeptically.

“I’m going to stimulate him manually,” Dewey explains, mimicking the vocabulary he had seen in their sex ed book. He tries to ignore the fact that the book had also said this method was recommended to only be used in case a mate was detained for a short period. It hadn’t said anything about ending a heat without a mature alpha. “We need to make him orgasm.”

“Then why don’t you…” Louie trails off as he makes a fist and makes a lazy pumping motion with it in the air.

“Not that way. It has to be internally.”

Dewey pulls his thumb out and tilts his hand so that he can push his middle finger into Huey in its place. He pushes it all the way in with little resistance, marveling at how easy the process is. Huey is so small but Dewey supposes his fingers are pretty small, too. Clear fluid oozes out of him, soaking Dewey’s hand, dripping down his wrist. He wiggles his finger around inside, drawing a little gasp from the boy nuzzled into his throat. Huey presses his hips up against him.

“How’s it feel?” Louie asks, making a face. He’s clearly not much into the idea of sticking things up his bother’s butt. Dewey, oddly, is surprisingly comfortable with the entire ordeal.

“Really wet inside. And hot.”

And really open. Huey seems to just part around him like a warmed-up metal spoon through ice cream. Dewey’s not sure what he’s looking for but he swears he’s supposed to be able to find something inside, but it’s all just hot smoothness as he experiments with slowly moving his finger in and out of his brother’s hole. The floral scent is heavier now, the smell seeming to envelop Dewey within it. It’s beginning to make him dizzy.

Huey’s hard penis digs into his stomach. Dewey doesn’t know how conscious Huey is or how aware he is of his actions but he’s writhing against him in a way that can’t be interpreted as anything but sexual. He just hopes his brother doesn’t notice his own hardness in return. When he slides his index finger in beside his middle, Huey lets out a small sobbing noise.

“Shh,” Dewey whispers, still stroking his brother’s hair with his other hand. “Just let me take care of you.”

“It just feels…really good.”

“I’m glad,” Dewey smiles. Better than hearing he’s in pain. A million times better.

The sound of his fingers moving in his brother’s asshole should probably be nauseating. It’s a loud, wet noise that somehow seems to travel directly from his ears down to Dewey’s own cock because he swears he can feel his hardon pulsing to the squelching. He attempts to adjust his position, subtly moving his own erection out of the way, but Huey is gripping him so tight there is little room to do so.

When Huey begins to push back against his fingers, he pulls them out and holds out his dripping hand, asking Louie for the brush.

“You’re not going to…” Louie trails off.

They both know the question is pointless. Of course, that’s what the brush is for.

It’s much, much larger than Dewey’s fingers, and he runs his hand over the thick handle to attempt to spread Huey’s juices over the smooth wood. He can’t imagine it being usable after tonight. He grips it by the rough, horse-hair bristles.

“Hold onto me,” he tells his big brother. “And if it hurts, let me know.”

Huey nods but Dewey doesn’t think he really has any idea what they’re talking about. He can’t see the brush in his hand. He’s semi-delirious, all feeling and sensation.

Louie watches as Dewey slowly pushes the handle inside of his brother’s small body. It’s thick, made to grip easily, and Huey’s opening is forced to stretch around it to accommodate the size. But he doesn’t cry out in pain. He doesn’t tell Dewey to stop or try to squirm away. If anything, he pushes against the intrusion in a way that speeds up the process. He wants that thing inside him. He’s panting and shivering in Dewey’s arms and when Dewey is too slow penetrating him with it, he begs “More.”

He does his best, but Huey is insatiable. It’s not enough to just have something large inside of him, he needs to be fucked with it, bred with it, and slow and gentle is insufficient as Huey moans out words like “faster” and “harder” and just “more, more, more.” Huey, their sweet, responsible big brother, has been completely undone by a hairbrush. But Dewey just can’t do it like he wants it, not from this angle with his arms bent around his brother, and Huey refuses to loosen his grip when he tries to sit up.

“No,” he whines, nails digging into Dewey’s back.

So Louie takes over. Nobody asks him. Dewey doesn’t suggest it. Not even with his eyes. He just seems to know what needs to be done. He kneels over Huey’s body and wraps his fingers around the soft bristles. He can get it in deeper and he can do it faster than Dewey had any hope of in his position. Dewey pulls his hand back and brings his fingers to his lips, not even thinking about what he’s doing until he tastes the wetness on his tongue. Then Huey kisses him. Dewey has no idea why his big brother kisses him or why he chooses this minute to do so. Maybe he’s just too lost in pleasure. Maybe the way Louie is fucking him is just so much better than Dewey was doing that he lost the ability to think entirely. Maybe it’s the smell. That of his own scent in Dewey’s mouth. Maybe it was the sight of his brother sucking his own juices off his fingers.

Dewey kisses him back, both of his hands grabbing the back of his head as he does so. He doesn’t even think of what Louie is doing, what he must think. All he can think of is Huey, his big brother, the boy who always does what he can to take care of both his little brothers. Of how good he feels against him and how soft his feathers feel against his own cock. He can’t help but move against him, the prolong this entire mess.

When Huey finally cums, he does so all over Dewey’s pajama top. It seems to be a full-body orgasm by the way he shivers and stiffens. He doesn’t scream or anything so over the top, he just whines and breathes through it. Louie continues to thrust the brush handle inside him as he shivers. Only once his body goes limp does Louie stop and Huey finally releases Dewey, which he is thankful for because they’re not done yet. He slaps at Louie’s hand urgently. Not to hurt him but just to indicate that he needs to move. Louie pulls the brush out and sits back on his knees. Dewey’s own hardon is still painful but that doesn’t matter right now. This was never about him.

Louie watches horrified as Dewey slips his entire hand inside of Huey’s sopping wet hole.

“What are you doing!”

“I’m simulating a knot,” Dewey pants. He feels worn out after this entire ordeal and there’s still a good while until he can relax. “You knew that we needed to do this.”

“I didn’t think you were going to stick your fist up his ass!”

“What else would we use? A baseball?”

Neither of them has any idea how long it needs to last. Louie sits cross-legged on the end of the bed and looks through his phone, reading vague responses out loud, but none of the websites give a straight-up answer.

“It just says until the knot goes away,” Louie says, waving his hand in the air. “Some people say an hour is normal but some guys on this message board say theirs lasts three hours?”

“They’re probably just bragging,” Dewey yawns. He just wants to sleep. “Let’s give it an hour.”

An hour and the sun is starting to come up.

As is Huey. Specifically, his dick. Dewey’s erection went back down on its own, thankfully, and he had been hoping that was the last they’d have to be worrying about those things for a while.

“It didn’t work,” he spits out, wiping his hand clean on Huey’s blanket. It has started to wrinkle from being damp so long, like it would after a long bath. “After all that, it didn’t work.”

“I told you,” Louie says, not quite gloating but close. “We need an adult.”

Dewey refuses to be the one who goes to find one. He sits beside Huey, petting his hair, apologizing to him.

“I really wanted to be the one to help you,” he says quietly. “You do so much for us, this should have been my turn to stand up.”

“You did your best,” Huey whimpers, despite the pain that is once more beginning to overtake his body. He grips Dewey’s hand tightly. “In a few more years, you will be enough. Just not yet.”

Dewey doesn’t know if Louie ran to every adult in the house or if he just happened to come upon a cluster of them together for some reason at dawn. Uncle Scrooge arrives first, still in his dressing coat, then their mother in her nightgown, and for some reason Launchpad arrives already dressed for the day.

“Oh, honey!” Della goes to hug Huey, but Uncle Scrooge blocks her with the cane.

“Best not to touch him,” he warns. “We can’t have the scent of another alpha on him or it could drive his lover mad.”

“He’s twelve,” Della says indignantly. “He doesn’t have a lover.”

“Well he will need one for this cycle,” Uncle Scrooge growls. “Seeing as how nobody bothered to get him set up with the proper medication. Launchpad, that boyfriend of yours, he slept over last night, didn’t he?”

“Drake?” Launchpad asks, scrunching up his face in confusion. “Uh, yeah, how did you know?”

“I know everything that goes on within these grounds. Please pick up Huey and take him to your garage. I think it’s safe to assume that buffoon in the purple cape wouldn’t object to deflowering an omega in distress. But please stay with them, I’m not willing to blindly trust any old alpha with my kin.”

Launchpad is forced to drag Huey from his brother’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really supposed to be a smutfic. It's more supposed to be about Dewey figuring out his protective feelings as an alpha towards his omega brother.


End file.
